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.