Whose Brood?

Advent 3, Yr. C, December 16, 2012

Zephaniah 3:14-20; Canticle 9; Philippians 4:4-7; Luke 3:7-18

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

            So here we are again on the third Sunday of Advent, listening to John the Baptist rail against those gathered at the river.  That crowd of people had come out to be baptized by John, to be washed clean,  purified by a baptism of repentance, a baptism intended to re-orient them to God.  I imagine them standing there in that crowd eagerly awaiting their dip in the muddy waters of the Jordan.  Standing ready to take that plunge and make that commitment.  Instead of cheers and congratulations, they are met with name calling and accusations.  “You brood of vipers!  Do not begin to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our ancestor.’”  I wonder how many baptisms we’d have at St. Stephen’s if that’s the way I greeted people at our baptismal font?  How many would continue on?  How many would leave angry … or run away in fear? 

Got Hope?

Advent 1, Yr. B, December 2, 2012

Jeremiah 33; Psalm 25:1-9; 1 Thessalonians 3:9-13; Luke 21:25-36

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

            I’ve been talking a lot about hope lately, and today won’t be any different.  Notice the banner that’s up on the wire this week.  Our first candle in this new season of Advent, a season of “coming” is also about hope.  This is the beginning of our looking forward to a future event that happened 2000 years ago, the birth of a man who had the capacity to live in full communion with God in every moment of his life.  As grim as life in first century Palestine could be for many, Jesus proclaimed hope.  Jesus proclaimed the kingdom of God was at hand.  The advent of the Day of the Lord was upon them.   Just watch the signs, he told them.  Stay steadfast in your faith, trust in God, don’t let your fears and worries get you down.

            I imagine there were many people who couldn’t see the possibilities themselves, and despair was a ready friend to them, a trap that could catch them and refuse to let them go. 

The Reign of Christ

Last Sunday after Pentecost, Yr. B, November 25, 2012

Daniel 79-10, 13-14; Psalm 93; Revelation 1:4b-8; John 18:33-37

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

            The readings from Daniel and Revelation are part of the apocalyptic literature in the Bible.  We tend to think that this type of literature is all about retribution and annihilation.  It portrays a kind of end time that most of us don’t particularly look forward to, an end that ushers in the victory of God by means of a great war between the forces of good and the forces of evil.  There have been times in my life when I felt that these writings weren’t particularly helpful to my spiritual life. 

            But as I look around in the world today, and I see so many of our young adult males, particularly males of color, dying in our streets, and as I look up the names of those killed in our military every week now, I find myself seeing these stories from a different perspective.

Give for Hope

25^th Sunday after Pentecost, Yr. B, November 18, 2012

Daniel 12:1-3; Psalm 16; Hebrews 10:11-25; Mark 13:1-8

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

            In a short time, we’ll be coming up to the chancel step and offering our financial pledge for 2013, a pledge that will support the life and ministry of St. Stephen’s Church.  That pledge is an offering of life and love.  Money is the symbol of our life’s labor, and all the blood, sweat and tears that we put into our vocation.  Our pledge is a gift of life.

            I had a friend in Lake Placid who was quite wealthy, and also quite generous with that wealth.  His faith was important to him, and he took to heart the idea that he was a steward of all that he had been given.  He was also a businessman, conscientious and practical.  He wanted his gifts to also be good investments. 

Our New Brother

23^rd Sunday after Pentecost & All Saints Sunday, Yr. B, November 4, 2012

Wisdom of Solomon 3:1-9; Psalm 24; Revelation 21:1-6a; John 11:32-44

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

Both of our New Testament readings this morning scream of death and resurrection.  The reading from Revelation is one often read at funerals in our tradition, and the raising of Lazarus is one that surely speaks of God’s ability to bring life from death.  What do these readings have to do with the Feast of All Saints, and baptism?  Why are we reading them on a day when we are welcoming a young child into our faith community?  Why are we reading about destruction and death, and the afterlife when we should be focusing on this life?

Voices

22^nd Sunday after Pentecost, Yr. B, October 28, 2012

Jeremiah 31:7-9; Psalm 126; Hebrews 7:23-28; Mark 10:46-52

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

            This story of the blind man, or men, is in each of the synoptic gospels.  In Matthew it’s two blind men.  In Luke the disciples and Jesus are coming to Jericho, and in the other two gospels they are leaving.  Only Mark names the blind man.  In the other two gospels the blind are nameless. 

These differences are interesting, but the similarities between the stories are more striking.  In all three stories, the blind are beggars on the side of the road as Jesus and the disciples walk in or out of Jericho.  In all three, the disciples try to quiet the pleas of the blind.  In all three, Jesus calls, or in Luke orders, the blind to come to him.  In all three, Jesus heals the blindness, and once healed the newly sighted men become followers of Jesus. 

            This story isn’t a parable.  It’s not a wisdom story told by Jesus to make us think.  It’s not a puzzle we’re meant to ruminate on in order to discover the meaning.  It’s not a song or poem passed down through the tradition intended to bring to the present age past glories or success.  This is a slice of life in first century Palestine.  

Children’s Sabbath

21^st Sunday after Pentecost, Yr. B, October 21, 2012

Isaiah 53:4-12; Psalm 91:9-16; Hebrews 5:1-10; Mark 11:35-45

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

In New York State, 21.2% of our children live in poverty, 10.1% in extreme poverty.  We’re 24^th among states in babies born with low birth weight, and 10^th among states in infant mortality. 38.4% of our children are not fully immunized.  7.9% of the children in our state have no health insurance despite the fact that we have programs in place that should insure that no child goes uninsured.[1]  The young often bear the brunt of the inequalities in our system. 

Unexpected Eyes of Love

20^th Sunday after Pentecost, Yr. B, October 14, 2012

Amos 5:6-7,10-15; Psalm 90:12-17; Hebrews 4:12-16; Mark 10:17-31

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

  

I’ve been here long enough that this is my second time preaching on this passage from Mark.  Most of us are pretty well acquainted with the story of the “rich young man”.  A wealthy young man comes to Jesus, and asks what must I do to inherit eternal life?”  Jesus responds by telling him what was surely obvious to a faithful Jew, “follow the commandments.”  Jesus even spells them out to him.  The young man replies, “I have kept all these since my youth.”  Who remembers?  How does Jesus respond?  He says, “Go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven.”  Isn’t that what we remember?  That’s what I usually remember … but that’s not all that’s there

What if the World is a Prophet to the Church? Part 2

19^th Sunday after Pentecost, Yr. B, October 7, 2012

Genesis 2:18-24; Psalm 8; Hebrews 1:1-4; 2:5-12; Mark 10:2-16

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

You might think that our reading from Mark is about marriage and divorce, but it’s really about relationships and covenant.  It’s really about how we are meant to live together.  The creation story we read from Genesis helps us to see that.  In this account of our human beginnings God creates “man”, which is more accurately translated as “human being”.  There is no gender implied in the original language.  God realizes that his human creation is not meant to live in isolation, so God sets about making the human a partner.  God is infinitely creative.  God creates every animal of the field, all the birds, even domestic animals like cattle.  God goes to great length to create some kind of living thing that will be a suitable partner for the human, but nothing God creates is adequate. 

So God causes a deep sleep to come upon this first human being.  From it, God takes a rib and fashions another human and they become one flesh.  As one flesh, they are made from the same substance.  They are alike, and yet unique.  They are the beginning of our human community.  The first human is no longer alone.  The two are partners. We are inherently interdependent; we are not created to live alone.  We are meant to live in need of one another.  We are not whole outside of relationship with others.  This human story is an experiment in community.

What if the World is a Prophet to the Church?

18^th Sunday after Pentecost, Yr. B, September 30, 2012

Numbers 11:4-6, 10-16, 24-29; Psalm 19:7-14; James 5:13-20; Mark 9:38-50

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

So this Sunday we will start discussing the book, An Introduction to the Missional Church.  I bet some of you thought that you might get out of it by not reading the book.  That may not be the case!  You see, in preparation for our discussion, I have had to reread the book.  I’ll be doing that for thenext three weeks as well … just so you know.  The first three chapters are for today’s discussion.  In these first three chapters Alan Roxburgh and M. Scott Boren try to help us understand what a missional church is and is not.  They go to a lot of effort to distinguish what they describe as missional church from other missional identities.  We’ll talk a bit more about that after church. 

One of the foundational things that I’ve carried with me from these first chapters came from the first page of Chapter 1.  At every stage in the biblical narratives is hope for a future reality toward which the people are moving.  Being missional means we join this heritage, entering a journey without any road maps to discover what God is up to in our neighborhoods and communities.[1] 

Waiting on God

16^th Sunday after Pentecost, Yr. B, September 16, 2012

Isaiah 50:4-9a; Psalm 116:1-8; James 3:1-12; Mark 8:27-38

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

Not many of you should become teachers, my brothers and sisters, for you know that we who teach will be judged with greater strictness. (James 3:1) I was a teacher for many years, and now as a priest I continue to teach.  I used to worry about being judged by my students, and by my peers … but not so much anymore because I’m older, I am more comfortable with who I am.

My daughter is in fifth grade.  She still thinks that her teachers know everything.  Like most kids she gets homework.  She’s still young enough that I know most of what she is learning, at least the science, reading and math.  Social studies, well … not so much.  I don’t think I really learned anything about social studies until I had to teach it.  Sometimes Nancy or I will be helping Hannah with her math homework, and we’ll get into a little bit of a tuggle.  We’ll very patiently help her through the steps we would use to solve a problem, and she’ll be quick to let us know that “the teacher doesn’t do it that way.”  Usually, we try to reassure her.  “It’s good to learn different strategies for solving problems.  Then when you get stuck you have options”, we say knowingly.  We’re older.  Our experience should count for something.  With impatience evident in her voice she typically responds, “That’s not how you do it, Maiya.  The teacher does it a different way.”  Right.  Well, as you might imagine homework usually goes downhill from there.  The teacher knows.  In fact, teachers know more than we do.

Making Space

15th Sunday after Pentecost, Yr. B, September 9, 2012

Isaiah 45:4-7a; James 2:1-10,(11-13), 14-17; Mark 7:24-34

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

  

Say to those of a fearful heart, "Be strong, do not fear!  Here is your God." (Isaiah).  Here is your God!  Where might that be? That here that Isaiah speaks of?  Is it in the church?  In the city?  In the pew sitting beside you?  Inside you?  Where is here?

We are an incarnational people.  We believe that God is present in all God creats, most especially in Jesus Christ, a man who lived in first century Palestine.  Jesus lived in unique relationship with God, in perfect union.  Jesus was fully human and always here with God.  Jesus had the capacity to funnel God's creative and healing energy into the world.

In our readings from Mark, Jesus healed a man who is deaf and dumb.  He exorcises a demon with a word, without even stepping foot in the house.  Jesus is a conduit for the fulfillment of God's purposes on earth, just as we can be.  James is pretty clear, just like he was in last week's reading, that our calling is to believe and act.  In fact, he says, we are to act without partiality.  No one person is less or more important than another.  Each of us is precious in God's eyes.  That's why we address everyone at Sunday Supper as "sir" and "ma'am".  It's an act of respect.  That's why we don't turn anyone away from that meal or this table.  Our doing in love, is God doing in love.  God's power working in us can do infinitely more than we can ask or imagine.

"Be strong, do not fear!  Here is your God."  So how do we prepare ourselves for God being HERE with us?  How do we prepare ourselves for God taking up residence within us?

The Word Implanted in Us

14^th Sunday after Pentecost, Yr. B, September 2, 2012

Deuteronomy 4:1-2, 6-9; Psalm 15; James 1:17-27; Mark 7:1-8, 14-15, 21-23

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

In the August 22^nd issue of The Christian Century, Wallace Bubar, a Presbyterian minister shares a story about his early church life in a Southern Baptist church.  Bubar writes,

It was called the six-point record system.  In the Southern Baptist church of my childhood, the offering envelopes in the pews had the usual line for your name and the amount of your contribution.  But they also had six little boxes underneath where you could put a check mark, and next to the boxes were six actions: worship attended, Bible brought, Bible read daily, Sunday school lesson studied, prayed daily, gave an offering.

Somebody, writes Bubar, at Southern Baptist headquarters in Nashville had decided these were the six things that were worth recording.  Not the commandments, not the fruits of the Spirit, not the eight Beatitudes and not the seven cardinal virtues.  No, there were six essentials of the Christian life, and bringing your Bible to church was one of them.[1] 

Now, I didn’t grow up Baptist.  I was raised in the Roman Catholic church.  No one there brought a Bible to anything when I was young!  I was so far removed from the Bible that I didn’t even really know any Bible stories … even though I’d heard passages of the Bible read in church every Sunday, practically from the moment I took my first breath!  Never missed church … but never read the Bible for myself until I was an adult. 

Choose

13^th Sunday after Pentecost, Yr. B, August 26, 2012

Joshua 24:1-2a, 14-18; Psalm 34:15-22; Ephesians 6:10-20; John 6:56-69

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

As far as John’s gospel goes we’re picking up right where we left off last week.  Actually we’re picking up reading the last two verses of what we heard last week.  Jesus has just told his followers that they must eat his body and drink his blood if they are to be true followers of him.  He could have made it a lot easier for them by talking plainly, and not in metaphors.  But he doesn’t, and as it says in the message version of this passage, Jesus sensed that the disciples were having a hard time with this.  Such a hard time in fact, that many of them decide to leave.  So Jesus turned to his trusted inner circle of apostles, and he asks them, “Do you also want to leave?” 

At the time when John was writing this gospel the Christ followers were being shut out of the synagogues.  The temple in Jerusalem had been destroyed a second time after a failed revolt.  The unrest was firmly blamed on the messianic Jews among them.  Those who still followed the teachings of the prophet Jesus.  The early Christians were being forced to choose whether they would remain within Judaism, or whether they would risk cutting themselves off to continue to follow the Way of Jesus.  Judaism had a tenuous relationship with the Roman leadership, but the outside of that fold, Christianity was an illegal religion.  There were real risks to consider.

A Red, Red Rose

12^th Sunday after Pentecost, Yr. B, August 19, 2012

Proverbs 9:1-6; Psalm 34:9-14; Ephesians 5:15-20; John 6:51-58

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

Last week, I went to church at St. Patrick's Church in Brewer, ME.  I've been there a number of times, always in the summer, and usually when the priest there is on vacation ... like I am.  This time the Associate Priest was presiding and preaching at the service.  He started his sermon by saying that he had intended to make this sermon a two parter.  Beginning with last Sunday's lessons and finishing with this Sunday's readings.   But things hadn't worked out exactly as he had planned, so he actually ended up condensing last week's sermon and giving us a preview of this week. 

He shared with us two poems, and he talked about the way poetry often communicates a message that is difficult to articulate in everyday language.

To Work and To Love

8^th Sunday after Pentecost, Yr. B, July 22, 2012

Jeremiah 23:1-6; Psalm 23; Ephesians 2:11-22; Mark 6:30-34, 53-56

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

         Here’s how I imagine the gathering at the beginning of our gospel story.  The apostles are returning in their pairs from the mission that Jesus has sent them out to do.  They are all talking at once. 

“Jesus, you’ll never believe what happened to us in Jerusalem.”

“Jesus, Andrew and I were so tired after walking that first night that I didn’t think we were going to make it into the city to find shelter.”

“Jesus, Peter and I got lost on the path to Jericho and I wanted to kill him for taking us down the wrong road.”

“Jesus, Nathaniel healed a blind woman and her husband was so grateful that he let us stay with them for a whole week!”

 “Jesus, I think I need a new pair of sandals.”

Step out Boldly

7^th Sunday after Pentecost, Yr. B, July 15, 2012

Amos 7:7-15; Psalm 85:8-13; Ephesians 1:3-14; Mark 6:14-29

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

            In some ways today’s gospel story is almost too ludicrous to take seriously.  We have a “king” who’s not really a king celebrating a birthday with a grand party for his friends and officers.  Shamelessly he allows his daughter to dance for the guests, something that should only have been allowed with family present.  He becomes so enthralled with her dance that he offers her anything she desires, even though the most a daughter can expect to receive from a father is half of what he owns.  But his daughter doesn’t want the kingdom.  She wants the head of John the Baptist on a platter, a truly gruesome request.  Herod has made the gift offer in front of all his officers, and to avoid dishonor he reluctantly … we’re told … sends his soldiers to the prison to kill John.  John’s head is ultimately served up on a platter to the waiting daughter.

Tree or Shrub?

3^rd Sunday after Pentecost, Yr. B, June 17, 2012

Ezekiel 17:22-24; Psalm 92:1-4, 11-14; 2 Corinthians 2 Corinthians 5:6-10, (11-13), 14-17; ; Mark 4:26-34

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

The passage we heard from Ezekiel is the third part in a larger series that begins with a parable.  The parable goes like this.

A great eagle, with great wings and long pinions,
rich in plumage of many colors, came to the Lebanon.
He took the top of the cedar, broke off its topmost shoot;
he carried it to a land of trade,
set it in a city of merchants. 
Then he took a seed from the land, placed it in fertile soil;
a plant by abundant waters, he set it like a willow twig. 
It sprouted and became a vine,
spreading out, but low;
its branches turned towards him, its roots remained where it stood.
 So it became a vine; it brought forth branches,
put forth foliage.

A House Divided

2^nd Sunday after Pentecost, Yr. B, June 10, 2012

Genesis 3:8-15; Psalm 130; 2 Corinthians 4:13-5:1; Mark 3:20-35

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

Jesus has been walking around Galilee healing  and teaching.  He’s finished collecting disciples and has just come home.  Why?  We don’t know, but already a crowd is forming around him.  Obviously his reputation as a healer and exorcist has preceeded him, and now people are seeking him out.  The Scribes are trying to discredit him, by saying that Jesus is the chief devil.  They’re saying that Jesus is just masquerading as a good guy.  Sometimes that’s how evil gets a good foothold, by pretending to be good.

Recognizing Jesus

Trinity Sunday, Yr. B, June 3, 2012

Isaiah 6:1-8; Canticle 13; Romans 8:12-17; John 3:1-17

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

            When I lived in Lake Placid, Nancy and I attended the local Episcopal church there.  On the way home from church we drove through Saranac Lake and we would sometimes stop at our friend’s house for a visit.  We did that one Easter morning.  Our friend wasn’t raised in the church.  She had her own ideas about Easter, not particularly flattering ones.  On this morning she decided to tell us what she thought about Easter by drawing us a picture.  She picked up a pen and drew a rabbit being pulled out of a magician’s hat.  It’s all magic, isn’t it.  The resurrection?  Isn’t it just about as real as a magician pulling a rabbit out of his hat?  I remember thinking, she really doesn’t get it at all. 

Those Shoes

Elizabeth O’Neill Memorial Service; Saturday, June 2, 2012

The Bustle in a House (Dickinson); John 10:11-16

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

            I knew Elizabeth the last five years of her life.  I remember one of the first times I visited with her in her home on Trafalgar Street.  We were sitting in the living room.  We had been talking about her early years.  Elizabeth had lots of stories.  She had lived a long life.  She had told me about her father, who was a doctor, and what it was like growing up.  She had told me some about her early teaching experience and meeting her husband and their marriage.  We had come to a natural pause in our conversation.  We were both taking a moment to sip our tea, and enjoy the quiet of the house.  Her eyes drifted down, and I waited for what I thought would be another pearl of a memory.  She pointed downward and said, “Those are not particularly attractive shoes”.   And she was right, they weren't very attractive shoes!  “You’re right”, I answered.  “But they are particularly comfortable ones!”  I knew then, that I really liked this woman.  She stated the obvious truth that most of us are too polite to utter.  Elizabeth did not use words loosely.  As a teacher of English, she knew the power of words and stories. 

That’s What Ended Up Happening

Pentecost Sunday, Yr. B, May 27, 2012

Ezekiel 37:1-14; Psalm 104:25-35, 37; Acts 2:1-21; John 15:26-27, 16:4b-15

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

            Yesterday, we had Family Time at the Saints Community Garden.  Several of us got there a little early and turned the beds over and got most of the weeds out, so that when the families came, they could concentrate on planting seedlings with the kids.  When families began to arrive, I was working on cleaning out the front flower garden that sits in front of our banner at the corner of the garden.  A tall man approached me and asked if he could help us.  I said, “Of course!”  So he took my shovel and began digging holes I needed to transplant some day lilies that we had heeled in for the winter.  He helped take all the yard waste to the compost pile and then we began watering and mixing in some compost in that bed.

            As we worked he talked.  “I want to get to know Jesus”, he said.  I stood up and we looked at each other.  I was in my shorts and T-shirt.  No way could he have known I was a priest.  I took some comfort in that.  I said, “How do you do that?  How do you get to know Jesus?”

Filling the Gaps

Easter 7, Yr. B, May 20, 2012

Acts 1:15-17, 21-26; Psalm 1; 1 John 5:9-13; John 17:6-19

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

            When I was younger, I loved sports.  In gym we played all kinds of games, kickball, volleyball and softball.  Usually the teacher chose two captains, and they would pick teams. I bet many of you may have had the same experience.  We’d all stand in a line facing the captains.  The captains would look up and down the line, eyeing each one of us up.  Then they would start choosing.  First one and then the other, back and forth, picking the best players pretty quickly … while the less skilled stood eyeing their suddenly interesting shoelaces and shuffling their feet. 

Peace Begins at Home

Easter 6, Yr. B, May 12, 2012

Acts 10:44-48; Psalm 98; 1 John 5:1-6; John 15:9-17

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

“Arise then...women of this day!
Arise, all women who have hearts!
Whether your baptism be of water or of tears!
Say firmly:
"We will not have questions answered by irrelevant agencies,
our husbands will not come to us, reeking with carnage,
for caresses and applause.
Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn
all that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy and patience.
We, the women of one country,
will be too tender of those of another country
to allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs."

From the bosom of a devastated Earth a voice goes up with
our own. It says: "Disarm! Disarm!
The sword of murder is not the balance of justice."
 Blood does not wipe out dishonor,
nor violence indicate possession.
 As men have often forsaken the plough and the anvil
at the summons of war,
let women now leave all that may be left of home
for a great and earnest day of counsel.
 Let them meet first, as women, to bewail and commemorate the dead.
 Let them solemnly take counsel with each other as to the means
whereby the great human family can live in peace ...
each bearing after his own time the sacred impress, not of Caesar,
but of God -
In the name of womanhood and humanity, I earnestly ask
that a general congress of women without limit of nationality,
may be appointed and held at someplace deemed most convenient
 and the earliest period consistent with its objects,
to promote the alliance of the different nationalities,
the amicable settlement of international questions,
the great and general interests of peace.”[1]

Callings

5^th Sunday of Easter, Yr. B; May 6, 2012

Acts 8:26-40; Psalm 22:24-30; 1 John 4:7-21; John 15:1-8

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

            As the bishop was leaving yesterday, I told him about the first time I walked through St. Stephen’s.  Michael and I were together.  I think I had already made the decision to accept the offer of becoming pastor here.  Michael had already looked at the finances, so there were no surprises left there.  I was remembering the bare cinderblock walls in the chapel and the water stains on the wall in the tower entrance.  I remember sitting in a meeting with Michael and Steve Lane wondering what the hell I was doing.  They were talking about what they had been reading about covenantal relationships in other denominations.  Stuff I didn’t know anything about.  I must have looked a little doubtful about the whole thing because Steve Lane looked at me and said, “St. Stephen’s has good lay leaders.  They really do.  They will help you.”  And then he said, “So what do you think?  Are you interested?” 

Bitter Grace

Easter 4, Yr. B, April 29, 2012

Acts 4:5-12; Psalm 23; 1 John 3:16-24; John 10:11-18

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

                        A month or so ago I attended an Education for Ministry (EfM) mentor training near Canadaigua.  Everyone who attended was from our diocese, but we weren’t all well acquainted.  At our first gathering together, the facilitator had us do an exercise that asked us to write our names on a large piece of newsprint.  Beside our name, we were asked to write what it meant.  Now, I know what my name means because I’ve looked it up on occasion.  In particular, I remember doing that when we were thinking about what to name our daughter.  The name we chose mattered, and perhaps for the first time, I thought that the meaning of my name mattered too. 

            My name, Mary Ann, means bitter grace.  I thought about that fact a lot, when I was a chaplain at Strong.  I was the chaplain in the Neonatal ICU during the year I was a resident there.  In that unit, I often got to know patients and families well, because stays were typically long.  One mother I got to know had a little boy who had a particularly troubled start.  For several weeks, we didn’t know if he was going to live or die.  He’d be content in his little isolet, and then suddenly stop breathing, or have an erratic heartbeat … doctors would rush in, and nurses would move us out of the way.  We’d wait anxiously for long minutes as they worked. 

Spreading the Word

Easter 3, Yr. B, April 22, 2012

Acts 3:12-19; Psalm 4; 1 John 3:1-7; Luke 24:36b-48

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

Yesterday we had another gathering of families with young children.  I like that group. They always teach me something.  Yesterday was no exception.  We talked about the parable of the sower.  Not because it was in the lectionary, but because today is Earth Day.  The image of the sower throwing seeds all over the place seemed to connect to our secular celebration of the earth.  It seemed appropriate to talk with our children about caring for the earth and one another, and to do something in the dirt.  So much to Felix’s chagrin (I bet) we did just that.  The older kids and I planted pansies in the three large planters that are now sitting outside our front church doors, and we planted seeds in the Creation Room, everything from peppers to beets to watermelons to marigolds.  We made a big mess, and we had a great time.

While the kids were snacking, the adults had a conversation about the parable.   We talked about the seeds thrown on the hard earth, and then on the shallow soil, and those seeds sown amongst the thorns … and then the seeds that fell on good soil.  What do you think about this story, I asked them.  One person said that she didn’t think of herself as being only one kind of soil.  There were days when her faith was as strong as the wheat coming up in the good soil, and other days when she knew her faith was troubled by the cares of the world.  Things aren’t black and white.  Then several others talked about how their faith was challenged on an almost daily basis … by people in their work … people who were intelligent thinking adults who couldn’t understand why anyone would believe what Christians profess.  We’re challenged when school practices or dance recitals pop up on Sunday mornings and we have to decide what to say.  Do I say we won’t be going because we go to church on Sunday mornings?  People don’t get it.

Linens Instead of Angels

Easter Sunday, Yr. B; April 8, 2012

Isaiah 25:6-9; Acts 10:34-43; John 20:1-18

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

            When I was in 7^th grade, I started delivering the morning paper.  The papers were delivered to my house in a bundle in the middle of the night.  I would wake early and go out to the front porch to retrieve the bundle while it was still dark outside.  I flicked on the porch light, grabbed the bundle and headed back inside to pack my paper bag.  I lived a good half mile from my route.  So after filling my bag, I’d head off in the dark at a fast clip.  I wasn’t very comfortable with darkness.  I used to imagine that someone was following me down the long hill to my first delivery.  I’d walk quickly along the dimly lit streets folding papers as I went, tossing them up onto porches or into doorways … pausing just long enough to be sure I’d hit my target before quickly turning back to the road to the next house on my route. 

            At one point in my route, I had to walk around a house and down a short wooded path into an apartment complex.  It was darker than the rest of the walk because of the trees.  I’d always walk through there with a folded paper in my hands … partly to swat down any cobwebs that had grown up overnight, and partly just to have something I could swing in case something jumped out at me on that lonely path.

This is the Night

Easter Vigil, Yr. B; April 7, 2012

Romans 6:3-11; Mark 16:1-8

Sermon preached at The Church of St. Luke & St. Simon Cyrene

A friend of mine preached at my priestly ordination.  She’s a weaver.  At the time she was learning a new pattern and it was giving her some trouble.  She talked about setting up the loom … about the warp (the lengthwise threads) and the woof  (the threads that go across).  She told us how she just couldn’t get the set up straight in her head until her teacher told her to “keep your eyes on the cross.  Keep your eyes on the cross and you won’t go wrong”.  After hearing that, things came out right.  That’s not just good advice for weavers, she told us.  It’s also good advice for us as Christians.

Keep your eye on the cross, a figure made up of two lines intersecting at right angles … one line horizontal, the other vertical.  The cross represents the intersection of the created order and the divine.  We live in the created world, a world bound by linear time.  Events in our lives take place one after another.  We are born.  We grow into toddlerhood.  We learn to smile and eat and talk and run and play.  We grow into adults and start our own families.  We are not the same from one day to the next.  We are constantly changing.  Once a day has go by, we cannot go back and reclaim it.  It is done. We grow into things.  We live in chronos, linear time.

A Word to Sustain the Weary

Palm Sunday, Yr. B; April 1, 2012

Isaiah 50:4-9a; Philippians 2:5-11; Mark 15:1-47

Sermon Preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

            As the events surrounding the death of Trayvon Martin in Florida have played out on the airwaves, I have listened to reporters and lawyers and parents.  I have heard how Trayvon was speaking by cell phone to a friend.  How he told her he was being followed.  How she told him to run.  And he did.  How this someone followed him.   How his friend told him to run again, and this time he said, “No.  I’m not running anymore.” I listened as Trayvon’s father, Tracy Martin, talked about his son on Tell Me More on NPR Thursday evening.  When the reporter asked him, “What do you think happened out there?” Tracy said this.

           "He didn't do anything to have to run. He definitely belonged in the area where he was at. There was no reason for him to run. And I honestly think that Zimmerman approached him, tried to detain him. And as a person, he's always been taught to defend himself. If you try to detain an individual that you have no knowledge of, you don't know them, you know — he's supposed to go on the defensive.  If Zimmerman came up to grab your kid — [I mean, maybe your kids are smaller] — I'm sure you would tell your kids to yell, kick, scream, whatever — get away from this individual, you don't know them.  I think all Trayvon was trying to do was get home safe."[1]

            Why this event has been occupying my mind as I read our gospel today isn’t entirely clear to me, but I know it has something to do with the violence of the crucifixion and the violence that stills plagues our streets. 

It’s Radical

Lent 5, Yr. B, March 25, 2012

Jeremiah 31:31-34; Psalm 51:1-12; Hebrews 5:5-10; John12:20-33

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

            If you read the Herald a week or so ago, you will remember that I wrote about reading a book called Radical Amazement.[1]  It’s a book that talks about the “new cosmology”, our latest understanding of the universe and how that effects our thinking about God and spirituality.  You might wonder why that is even a concern to people of faith, and that is a good question.  But we’re in a period that I think resembles the scientific revolution of the 16^th & 17^th centuries, a time of great change in the religious world.

Before people like Galileo and Copernicus and Newton came along we believed that the earth was flat … that our planet was the center of the universe … that heaven really was above the earth.  The creation stories were taken at their word, and we believed that the earth was created by God in six days … beginning with light.  We believed that God commanded the movement of the planets and God’s whim controlled every act of nature.  We prayed to God to control those things we didn’t understand, or over which we had no control.  We imagined God as the master controller, the one holding the joystick that ran the world from his thorne in the stars. 

But Copernicus suggested that the Earth turned on its own axis and that it revolved around the sun.   And Galileo built a telescope that looked deeper into space.  He told us that the planets weren’t heavenly bodies that housed angels.  Instead they were made of matter, and were in fact much more like our planet earth than we ever imagined.  Newton discovered natural laws that explained the motion of the planets, and the behavior of many earthly phenomenon.  The world was more predictable than we thought, and through observation and experimentation we could pretty accurately explain what was previously unexplainable.  All this science made religion look like a lie.  

Jesus is the Serpent

Lent 4, Yr. B, March 18, 2012

Numbers 21:4-9; Psalm 107:1-3, 17-22; Ephesians 2:1-10; John 3:14-21

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

            You may have heard me say this before, but just in case … let me say it again.  This Old Testament story about the serpents is one of my favorites.  Whenever I read it, I enjoy the twists and turns it takes.  I enjoy the way it reveals our humanity. 

            “From its beginning, the narrative of the wilderness wandering of the escaped Hebrews is rife with reports of trouble and suffering, accompanied by constant complaining (KJV: “murmuring”) of the people against Moses and Aaron.  The people did not like the bitter water of Marah (Exod. 15:22-25), so the Lord showed Moses how to sweeten it.  They complained about the lack of foor (Exod. 16:2-3), so the Lord gave them manna.  They complained that they were thirsty (Exod. 17:3).  Moses struck the rock at the Lord’s command, and water gushed forth (see also Num. 20:1-13).  When the march resumed after Sinai, they were back at it again, asking for meat to eat (Num. 11:4-6).  A wind from the Lord brought quails.”[1]

Obstacles

Lent 3, Yr. B, March 11, 2012

Exodus 20:1-17; Psalm 19; 1 Corinthians 1:18-25; John 2:13-22

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

So Jesus comes into the temple and he throws a fit.  It's a humdinger of a fit too.  It's as bad as any tamper tantrum a toddler might throw in the middle of the grocery store.  He enters the temple and "found people selling cattle, sheep, and doves, and the money changers seated at their tables".  We might be tempted to think that this is something unusual, Jesus "finding" a little public market set up inside the temple.  Seems like a strange place to try to make a buck, or rather ... a denari or two.  Doesn't it?

Carrying the Cross

Second Sunday of Lent, Yr. B; March 4, 2012

Genesis 17:1-7, 15-16; Psalm 22:23-30; Romans 4:13-25; Mark 8:31-38

Sermon Preached at The Church of St. Luke & St. Simon Cyrene

            Abraham didn’t expect to be the father of a nation.  He didn’t ask for it.  Peter didn’t expect to be a peddler of love and forgiveness.  He didn’t ask for that either.  But Abram was faithful and God transformed him and Sarai.  Simon was faithful, and God transformed him too.  So now we know them as Abraham, Sarah and Peter, their names reflecting the work God has done in them. 

            I doubt that their transformations were easy ones. Abram traveled a long way before God reiterated the promise and FINALLY gave him a son by Sarah.  Abram had left his homeland and traveled through a few unfriendly lands.  He had gone to Egypt, survived a famine, and nearly lost his wife to a foreign king. Sarah had become desperate for the fulfillment of God’s promise.  So Abraham fathered a son by Haggar, and now his son, Ishmael, is a teenager!

            Peter has left his family and his nets to follow Jesus, a decision that has likely made him quite unpopular at home.  He has traveled with Jesus, staying in all kinds of place, learning at his feet with the other disciples.  Simon was perhaps the most ardent mistake maker of the bunch … walking toward Jesus on the water, and ending up taking a bath in the sea.  Recognizing Jesus as the Messiah and then being rebuked in front of the other disciples.  But to be transformed we have to allow ourselves to be broken open by God, to risk looking at ourselves and the world a little differently. 

"Get the Man Right"

First Sunday of Lent, Yr. B; February 26, 2012

Genesis 9:8-17; Psalm 25:1-9; 1 Peter 3:18-22; Mark 1:9-15

Sermon Preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

                        At the last meeting of families with young children, we spent some time with the Noah story.  We actually told the story of Noah building the ark and gathering the animals.  We used the Beulah Land felt board and all the animals from the creation story.  As we talked about Noah putting them on two by two, the kids helped me pick up the felt pieces and put them on the felt ark.  There were three large water droplets for the rain, and we talked about how very long it rained, and how the waters filled the earth and how the animals were likely as sea sick as the humans on the ark.  Then we found the little white dove that Noah sent out, and the little green sprig that the dove finally brought back as the waters receded.  At the end, in toddler chaos the animals came out of the ark and the big rainbow went up on the top of the felt board. 

Becoming Blinding Light

Last Sunday after the Epiphany, Yr. B; February 19, 2012

2 Kings 2:1-12; Psalm 50:1-6; 2 Corinthians 4:3-6; Mark 9:2-9

Sermon Preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

Last night I watched the movie Pete’s Dragon for the first time.  It’s a story about a little boy and his pet dragon.  Elliot, isn’t a pet, exactly.  He doesn’t depend on Pete to care for him.  In fact, it’s more like Elliot takes care of Pete.  Most people think that Elliot is Pete’s “imaginary friend”, something Pete has concocted to cope with a difficult and loveless life.  Pete says, “Elliot comes to those who need him.”  Pete really needs him.  But as it turns out, Elliot is a REAL dragon.  When people see him for the first time, they are terrified … even though he is quite a nice, helpful dragon.  Seeing a real live dragon is just a little too much to take in.   The few who do manage to see Elliot, run off screaming in fright.

So we don’t have to wonder why the disciples with Jesus are a bit confused when they witness the transfiguration.  It’s a little more than they can wrap their minds around.  And it’s not surprising to hear Jesus tell them not to tell anyone. I’m sure it’s something he has to spend a little time processing too.

A History of Healing

 6^th Sunday after the Epiphany/Absalom Jones, Yr. B; February 12, 2012

2 Kings 5:1-14; Psalm 30; Galatians ?:??-??; Mark 1:40-45
Sermon Preached at St. Stephen's Episcopal Church
Annual Meeting Sunday

            Over the last year or so I’ve been diagnosed with arthritis in various joints.  At first it was just bothersome on occasion, but when it became a constant nag, I decided it was time to go to the doctor.  She sent me to a Physical Therapist.  I would have preferred a pill to make it all go away … but the therapist was pretty sure that regular stretching would do the trick.  I’ve been pretty active all my life … pretty athletic.  I’m used to making my body work and expecting to sweat a little.  I actually enjoy physical work, so I was ready to tackle this stretching with a vengeance.  She handed me a skinny little book about posture and the back, and then she taught me two simple stretches.  “You should do these several times a day.  Don’t sit for more than an hour at a time.  Then get up and move around, and do your stretches.  Come back in a week.”  Really?  I thought.  Stretch?  “Oh, and read the book”, she said.

Healing and Wholeness

5^th Sunday after the Epiphany, Yr. B; January 22, 2012

Isaiah 40:21-31; Psalm 147:1-12, 21c; 1 Corinthians 9:16-23; Mark 1:29-39

Sermon preached at St. Stephen's Episcopal Church

In the gospel story we just heard, Jesus and his new found disciples enter the house of Simon .  Imagine yourself a woman in this household with your grown son-in-law, his brother and three of his friends showing up on your doorstep, one a rising gang leader.  The men in your family are fishermen, and work hard to eek out a meager existence.  Your son-in-law, his brother and two of their friends have dropped out of the family business to run off with this young radical named Jesus, leaving their fathers holding the nets that feed their family.  If I were part of that family, I’d be feeling a little sick myself, really sick!