Praying for Joy

Advent 3; Yr. A, December 15, 2013

Isaiah 35:1-10; 
Psalm 146; 
James 5:7-10; Matthew 11:2-11

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

Advent is a time of waiting.  Literally it means "coming".  Ironically, what we are waiting for, has already arrived.  What we’re waiting for is Emanuel, God with us. God is here in all the messiness and frustration of our lives.  God lives within us and around us.  That’s what joy is about in this Advent time.  It’s about that miraculous paradox, that what we long for is already among us.  That is our joy and it comes to us in the most unexpected ways, even in the midst of struggle and suffering and pain.  South Africa showed us that in a very vivid way this week as they celebrated the life of Nelson Mandella.  They laughed and danced and cheered with joy as they grieved the loss of a man who defied hatred and acted with forgiveness.  They showed us that joy and grief can exist together.

As I was driving to Two Saints yesterday for the quiet morning, I was listening to NPR. They interviewed a mother of a six-year old child who was killed in the Sandy Hook shootings a year ago.  This is her story.

Peace in the End

Advent 2; Yr. A, December 8, 2013

Isaiah 11:1-10; 
Psalm 72:1-7, 18-19; 
Romans 15:4-13; Matthew 3:1-12

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

            Hannah just finished reading a book in school called The Giver.  She was talking about it one day and it sounded familiar to me, so I read it.  It’s a story about a society that strives for what they call “sameness”.  Children get gifts every year that are the same.  Six year old girls get ribbons for their hair.  Eight or nine year olds get a bike.  Twelve year olds get a vocation, their jobs for life.  Now those who decide on the jobs watch and discern carefully the skills each child has before assigning them a job.  So the hope is that they get a job that suits their skills and their liking.  The main character is assigned to a job that only one other person has.  He becomes the Receiver and he will learn his job from the Giver, the man he will eventually replace.

            In that world the weather is the same every day.

Let Your Heart Sing

Reign of Christ; Yr. C, November 24, 2013

Jeremiah 23:1-6; 
Psalm 46; 
Colossians 1:11-20; Luke 23:33-43

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

            Every time I read that passage from Jeremiah, I shudder.  I hear God talking to the shepherds of the flock and chastising them for destroying and scattering the sheep of God’s pasture.  I am one of those shepherds, and even though I have no desire to destroy or scatter anything … it seems that can happen all too easily.

If it does, what happens then?

Bigger Than We Think

All Saints Sunday; Yr. C, November 3, 2013

Isaiah 1:1-10; 
Psalm 32:1-8; 
2 Thessalonians 1:1-4, 11-12; Luke 19:1-10

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

            Many of you know that I have started a Clinical Pastoral Education program to become certified as a CPE Supervisor.  As a result of that process, and the fact that it has been five years since we wrote our first Mission and Vision statement, the vestry and I have been exploring our life and work together.  Elaine, our secretary and I, took a month and kept track of our work and the time we spent on different tasks.  The vestry took a look at our Mission & Vision statements to see if and how they still ring true for us. After our service today, we ‘ll ask all of you to look at the work we’ve done and to give us feedback on the Mission & Vision.  In anticipation of this meeting, last week the vestry started thinking about the work that needs to be done in order to make this piece of paper a living document.  We’re looking forward to your feedback.  The vestry has put in a bit of extra time doing this work, meeting outside of their regularly scheduled monthly meetings.  I feel a deep commitment to this parish in their commitment of time and talent, but we are a small church.

            The early churches were small too.

Remembering the Dead

All Saints Day; Yr. C, November 1, 2013

Daniel 7:1-3,15-18; 
Psalm 149; 
Ephesians 1:11-23
; Luke 6:20-31

Sermon preached at St. Luke & St. Simon Cyrene Episcopal Church

            At my clergy Bible study this week, a colleague told me that she didn’t think it was any surprise that All Saints Day occurred at this time of the year.  Just think about it, she said, the days are getting shorter, darkness is growing longer, leaves are falling, and the temperatures are dropping.  The earth itself appears to be dying.  At her church, there are a large number of Burmese refugees.  During their first fall here, they saw all these changes taking place and they didn’t know what was happening.  It was totally foreign to them.  They live in the tropics.  They asked the pastor why people weren’t afraid to see all the trees dying.  The pastor assured them that that wasn’t so.  This was fall, and winter would follow.  The trees were not dead; they were becoming dormant.  But the Burmese had never experienced winter and they didn’t believe him.  So one day, he took a few of them outside and with a pen knife, he cut a small branch on one of the trees.  He showed them the green that still lived on the inside of the dead looking branch.  He told them that new leaves would grow on the tree the following spring. So it seems appropriate to remember the promise of resurrection as we begin our journey from fall into the stillness of winter.  Life comes out of death. 

The One Who Came Back

21^st Sunday after Pentecost; Yr. C, October 13, 2013

2 kings 5:1-3, 7-15c; Psalm 111; 2 Timothy 2:8-15; Luke 17:11-19

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

            I was a leper.   You may not believe me because I look so good now.  But I was.  No one would come near me.  I would call out whenever I came near a village.  Unclean!  Unclean!  Beware!  And people would scatter in front of me.  They would run for safety and cover their faces.  Some would throw stones at me and chase me away from the village.  I was an outcast … an untouchable … ashamed … unclean.

            But then I found my brothers. 

That Faith Lives in You

20^th Sunday after Pentecost; Yr. C, October 6, 2013

Habakkuk 1:1-4,2:1-4; Psalm 37:1-10; 2 Timothy 1:1-14; Luke 17:5-10

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

The disciples cry out to Jesus, “Increase our faith!”  Jesus responds saying, “If you had faith the size of a mustard seed, you could say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea’, and it would obey you.”  The disciples are pleading.  What is Jesus doing?  Is he berating them?  Is he admonishing them?  That’s the tone I often hear in this passage, the frustrated tone of parent or teacher.  But what if Jesus is really encouraging them?  What if Jesus is using a voice of love and compassion that I too often forget to use with myself? 

What if he’s talking more like St. Paul, in Paul’s letter to Timothy.  I am reminded of your sincere faith, a faith that lived first in your grandmother Lois and your mother Eunice and now, I am sure, lives in you.  Paul reassures Timothy.  Paul recognizes the signs of faith in him, signs that, for whatever reason, Timothy may not be seeing in himself.  Maybe Timothy had even been pleading with Paul!  Increase my faith. 

I know what that’s like … to feel like your faith doesn’t amount to a hill of beans.

Eternal Tenting

18^th Sunday after Pentecost; Yr. C, September 22, 2013

Amos 8:4-7; Psalm 113; 1 Timothy 2:1-7; Luke 16:1-13

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

The parable of the Dishonest Steward is one that troubles most preachers when it pops up in the lectionary.  It’s a parable, a wisdom story, so I guess it’s good to remember that it is more like a Buddhist koan than an allegory.  This is one of those parables that makes us think, really think … because it doesn’t make sense to our ears.

Does anyone like hearing the dishonest steward praised?  Does anyone feel that his last ditch effort to make friends of those indebted to the master has any merit?  Would any of you be proud of acting in the same self-serving way?  Does anyone feel the least bit satisfied when Jesus tells us that we are to make friends with dishonest wealth too?  Oh, and by the way … you cannot serve two masters.  No one can serve both God and wealth.  Clear as a bell?  Everyone get the point?  I usually don’t.

Finding Forgiveness

17^th Sunday after Pentecost; Yr. C, September 15, 2013

Exodus 32:7-14; Psalm 51:1-10; 1 Timothy 1:12-17; Luke 15:1-10

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

            So a woman lost one of her ten silver coins, and she searched the house up and down until she found it.  It reminds me of the time I lost an ear ring, and I search the house the car, the pathway to the church door, the parking lot and the grass around my car.  I desperately wanted to find it, because what do you do with just one of a pair of earrings.  But I didn’t find my lost thing.  It stayed lost, probably sitting in some obscure dusty corner … waiting to be found.

            I knew that earring was lost, because I still had its partner in my left ear.  The only thing harder then losing it, was telling Nancy that it was gone … because it was her earring.   She had bought them for our wedding in New Hampshire.  Someone told me I should pray to St. Anthony, because that always works, but I didn’t.  That’s never really worked for me.  I just kept looking.  Something inside me made me believe that it was somewhere near by, that I was probably looking right at it, but not seeing it.  If only I looked in the right place … the lost thing would be found.  I imagined myself finding it, and running inside to tell Nancy.  Look, the lost have been found, I’d say!  It’s right here in my hand! We’d both smile and jump for joy.  We’d do a little happy dance in the kitchen and celebrate!  My guilt would be lifted and peace restored.  But I never did find it.

I have set before you life and death ….

16^th Sunday after Pentecost; Yr. C, September 8, 2013

Deuteronomy 30:15-20; Psalm 1; Philemon 1-21; Luke 14:25-33

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

Nothing has been more in the news this past week than the situation in Syria, and the proposed military action the president set before Congress.  I have heard about it on the radio, on numerous postings on Facebook, on TV news and NPR talk shows.  Everyone is talking about it, and offering their own opinion.  To all of that, I say, thank God.  I am so grateful that the president did not just run ahead and act on his own.  I’m grateful that he didn’t call Congress back early to make a rushed decision.  I’m glad that we’ve all had the opportunity to talk about what’s happened and what’s been proposed.  I don’t know how this will all end up, and I don’t want to guess at the political side of all this … I’m just happy that we’re talking about it.

The “Big” Table

15^th Sunday after Pentecost; Yr. C, September 1, 2013

Sirach 10:12-18; Psalm 112; Hebrews 13:1-8, 15-16; Luke 14:1, 7-14

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

            Every other year, Nancy, Hannah and I travel to Pittsburgh to be with my family at Christmas.  On one of the evenings when we’re there, we usually have a big family meal.  I have six brothers and sisters.  When we were growing up, nine of us just barely fit at the dining room table.  We each had our own seat.  Mine was right next to my mother.  My younger brother sat at the end opposite my father, and my older sister across the table.  God forbid anyone take your seat.  It was yours, and if you weren’t there you were missed.  As we got older, we fit even more snuggly around that table.  Then, some of us got married and had children and little hands needed help at the table.  Now at Christmas we’re trying to fit close to twenty people at that same table that barely fit nine.  Let’s just say, it’s a little tight.

Bent by a Spirit

14^th Sunday after Pentecost; Yr. C, August 25, 2013

Isaiah58:9b-14; Psalm 103:1-8; Hebrews 12:18-29; Luke 13:10-17

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

            For our marriage blessing two years ago a friend gave us a butterfly bush.  They’re beautiful bushes with bright purple brushes of flowers.  I was excited to get it and enjoyed walking around the yard to see where it might fit.  I finally planted it behind our garage in an area that had been covered with violets.  It did well into the fall, and then like many plants lost its leaves for the winter months.  In the spring I was excited to see how it would burst back into life.  I anticipated those brilliant spires of color like I would fireworks on the 4^th of July. 

            But when spring turned into summer, the plant failed to thrive.  Each leaf struggled forth from its bud and several of the main stems turned brown and died.  Afraid that my new shrub wasn’t going to last the summer, I began watering it more faithfully and adding fertilizer to give it strength.  As the long summer days faded to fall, it was still limping along … bent and stubby.  Blossoms were faded and few.  Clearly, its spirit was breaking.

Real Freedom

11^th Sunday after Pentecost; Yr. C, August 4, 2013

Ecclesiastes 1:2, 12-14; 2:18-23; Psalm 49:1-11; Colossians 3:1-11; Luke 12:13-21

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

            When I was thinking about what to major in when I went to college, my father advised me to go into something that would make me a living.  He didn’t much care what that was, as long as when I got out of college, I had a fair chance of finding a job and being able to support myself.  Initially, I think I’ve told you all before, I was accepted at college in a pre-forestry program.  I wanted to work in the outdoors, preferably in the woods or the water.  Purdue had a fine forestry program, but being a park ranger (my ultimate goal) did not seem like a profession that would produce a living wage upon graduation.  My father lived at a time when “work” wasn’t about personal fulfillment or “fun”.  It was nice if you enjoyed your work, but that regular paycheck was about supporting your family.  It meant your family had dinner on the table every night, and you had money to buy necessities, as well as to provide opportunity.  It paid for anything “fun” after your expenses were met. Regular income provided both security and freedom.

Our Father

10^th Sunday after Pentecost; Yr. C, July 28, 2013

Genesis 18:20-32; Psalm 138; Colossians 2:6-15, (16-19); Luke 11:1-13

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

One of Jesus’ disciples said to him, “Lord, teach us to pray, as John taught his disciples.”  Jesus said to them, “When you pray, say: Father, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come.  Give us each day our daily bread. And forgive us our sins, for we forgive everyone indebted to us. And do not bring us to the time of trial.  Anyone recognize this?  When I go visit Dorothy Adle at the Episcopal Church Home we end with this prayer.  No matter what I pray for at the beginning, I always end with the Lord’s Prayer.  Anyone know why?  It’s hardwired in her brain.  No matter what else she may forget … what she had for breakfast … who visited her in the last week … even her own name, when I start to say the Lord’s Prayer, her lips begin to move.  We say it together, at least most of it.  That prayer is a staple of our Christian faith.  No matter what Christian denomination you may belong to, if you call yourself a Christian you’ve heard it, and most of us know it.  We know it so well, we may not think about what we’re saying anymore, or let alone wonder what it might have meant to the people Jesus was speaking to.

Even the Pastor

9^th Sunday after Pentecost; Yr. C, July 21, 2013

Genesis 18:1-10a; Psalm 15; Colossians 1:15-28; Luke 10:38-42

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

Nancy, Hannah and I have been traveling over the last few weeks.  
As a part of that travel, we were in a number of restaurants, restrooms and rest areas.  All places, where one goes to find “rest” of some sort.  You might imagine that these were places of peace and quiet, but virtually none of them were.  The rest areas were filled with people coming and going from their summer vacation travels.  The restrooms were humming with people and noise, mothers corralling young children, shouts to “wash your hands” or “hold my hand”, the sound of flushing and drying and water running louder made the chaotic scene louder than you might imagine.  I didn’t expect complete quite at these way stations, because they are by nature the very places where people zip in and out on their way to somewhere else.  They aren’t meant to be places where we STAY.  So the noise of people getting done what needed to be done was appropriate.

Restaurants, on the other hand, are places where people sit and spend some time.  Whenever we were shown to a table for a bite to eat, we settled in to stay for a little while.  It felt good to be out of the car, and have someone wait on us.  The days were hot, and our drive was long.  So, a little peace and quiet would have been appreciated.  Most restaurants weren’t that quiet either.  Most had music piped in that negated any possibility of a quiet conversation.  Nancy and I both commented on how difficult it was to actually have a quiet conversation in most any family restaurant anymore.  The music was just too loud.  It wasn’t long after that, that we began to notice music in almost every public place we entered, stores, bathrooms, gas stations, airports, elevators … if it was a public space, there was almost always noise piped in. 

Becoming One

5^th Sunday after Pentecost; Yr. C, June 23, 2013

Isaiah 65:1-9; Psalm 22:18-27; Galatians 3:23-39; Luke 8:26-39

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

This week I spent a day at Northeastern Seminary listening to a conference on Emergence Christianity given by Phyllis Tickle.  She talked all about the sociological changes that have taken place over the last 100 years that have brought us to the place we are today in Christianity. 

So, you might be asking yourselves, what does this event have to do with today’s readings?  Good question.  I ask myself that question every week.  What does anything in my life have to do with what I’m reading in scripture?  Maybe it’s a question we should all be asking ourselves; because if we believe that scripture is the source of authority for our faith, than it has something to say about the decisions we make about how to live our lives.

Is scripture the authority?

The Beginning of the End

2^nd Sunday after Pentecost; Yr. C, June 2, 2013

1 Kings 18:20-21, (22-29), 30-39; Galatians 1:1-12;  Psalm 96; Luke 7:1-10

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

Richard Hays had this to say about Paul’s letter to the Galatians.  “Galatians proclaims an apocalyptic gospel.  Christ came to defeat the oppressive powers that held us captive and to ‘rescue us from the present evil age’ (1:4).  As Paul develops the implications of this confession, he discloses to his readers that the entire world of orderly religious norms that he had once zealously defended has been ‘crucified’ (6:14); it no longer has any claim upon him.  The real world in which we now live is the “new creation” brought into being by Christ, in which we are given new life and are guided by the Spirit.  As the church reads Galatians, then, we are constantly challenged to reject the wisdom of business as usual – including the business of religion – and to see reality as redefined by the cross.  Those who live by this rule will no longer be manipulated by the popular culture’s images of security and respectability.  We will live, instead, manifesting the fruit of the Spirit, and our life together will be a sign of the world to come.” [1]

            Our life together will be a sign of the world to come.  Paul saw Jesus’ resurrection as a sign of the new world coming to fruition.  What he had expected to be an end of time event, the general resurrection of all the faithful, he saw actually racing into the present.  Jesus was the first sign that it had already begun.  For Paul, the resurrection was the beginning of the end. Everything Paul knew about “church” … the laws, the rituals, the norms … were being re-formed, re-written in light of this unanticipated resurrection event.  It was all being transformed by the revelation of God in Jesus Christ.  Believers were given hope of a new life, and the gift of a new Spirit to guide them.

Why Baptism?

Trinity Sunday; Yr. C, May 26, 2013

Proverbs 8:1-4, 22-31; Romans 5:1-5;  Canticle 13; John 16:12-15

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

            When I lived in Lake Placid and the search committee was interviewing for our new priest, someone asked the interviewee who she would be willing to baptize.  If someone called who wasn’t connected to the church, would you baptize them?  These are the questions of hatch, match and dispatch … baptism, marriage and death.  If someone comes to the church looking for these “services”, the member wanted to know, would she offer them?   It’s an interesting question because it’s both a pastoral question and a theological one. 

            Death is the easiest.  In the midst of suffering and grief, I’m always swayed to do the most pastoral thing.  If I’m available, I’ll bury anyone.  I don’t care who you are, or where you came from.  We’ll find a way to commend you to God, if that’s what you and/or your family needs.  God’s love trumps everything.

Decisions, Decisions

Pentecost Sunday; Yr. C, May 19, 2013

Genesis 11:1-9; Acts 2:1-21;  Psalm 97; John 14:8-17, (25-27)

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

            It’s Pentecost Sunday a day in our church when we recognize the gift of the Holy Spirit.  One of the participants in our clergy Bible study this past week said, “Why do we celebrate Pentecost as the day when the Holy Spirit descended on humanity when we believe that the Holy Spirit has always been a part of the trinity?”  There was silence.  Then a colleague said, “You’re right … but the feast of Pentecost is the moment when the church recognized it.”

            I was surprised how many of my Baptist colleagues found the idea of the Holy Spirit somewhat foreign to their congregations.  I like the idea of the Holy Spirit.  I have a sense of the Spirit at work when I feel those nudges that prompt me to do something that feels a little risky, or calls me out of my comfort zone.  When the same thing pops into my head in different situations three times, something in me starts to pay attention.  I call it the nagging of the Spirit. 

Offering Freedom

7^th Sunday of Easter; Yr. C, May 12, 2013

Acts 16:16-34;  Psalm 97; Revelation 22:12-14, 16-17, 20-21; John 17:20-26

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

            Most of you know that I used to live in the Adirondacks.  When you think of the Adirondack Mountains, I bet you think first of the natural beauty there, and the access to lakes and trails that enable so many to enjoy the outdoors.   You might think about snowmobiling or ski slopes or ice skating on frozen ponds.  Perhaps you even remember the winter Olympics that took place in Lake Placid, most recently in 1980.  I think of those things too, but every once in a while I remember something else.  I remember the many prisons there.

            Between Saranac Lake and Lake Placid there are two prisons, one federal and one state.  In the small town of Gabriels, not far away, there was another one.  It’s now closed.  In Malone, about 30 minutes away from where we lived, there were three more. According to Wikipedia,“All three prisons [in Malone], along with other upstate facilities, provide employment in an otherwise depressed economic area of the state.”  Our neighbor was a prison guard, so were a lot of other people.  When I lived there, the town I taught in was actually competing for a new prison as a way to grow their economy.  They needed a new industry to fuel that growth.  They needed jobs.  A new prison could mean at least 200 new jobs.  A new prison could mean money for the town.

Who’s the Helper?

6^th Sunday of Easter; Yr. C, May 5, 2013

Acts 16:9-15;  Psalm 67; Revelation 21:10, 22-22:5; John 14:23-29

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

                        I’ve been on the SWEM board a few years now.  That board is a working board.  Almost everyone on it is an officer or a leader in one of the programs that SWEM coordinates.  We all help with the Christmas Baskets.  We’ll all be at the CROPWalk later today.  We’ve all put in hours at the food cupboard at the Montgomery Neighborhood Center, and we’re committed to feeding hungry people in our neighborhoods.  We want to serve.  For us, it’s a calling.

Alpha & Omega

5^th Sunday of Easter; Yr. C, April 28, 2013

Acts 11:1-18;  Psalm 148; Revelation 21:1-6; John 13:31-35

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

            Today we will begin reading Richard Rohr’s book called “Falling Upward”.  In it Rohr talks about what he calls the two halves of the spiritual life.  The first half being the time when we build what he calls, “the proper container” for our lives.  We answer such questions as “what will I do”, “who am I”, “how do I support myself”?  That first half of life is primarily concerned with issues of life, success and security … externals.  The second half of life, he says, is more concerned with what fills us.  It takes into account the fact that we are part of a community.  We’re concerned about what feeds us, but also about how our life affects others.  We acknowledge ourselves as part of a community.

            In Revelation, God says, “I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end.”  God sees all time in one fell swoop, not in halves.  God sees us as a baby at our mother’s breast and lying in our bed close to death … all in the same instant … in all its completeness.  We see in linear time, and so beginnings and endings are discreet events, like the gun shot at the start of a race, and the checkered flag at the finish; alpha and omega exist at two ends of the spectrum.  We can only live one moment at a time even if our minds jump ahead to the future or get stuck in the past. 

A Story Rewritten for Us

This sermon wasn't written in full, so the text is limited.  In conversation with the congregation we "wrote" it together from their memories and ideas.  What you have here are my initial notes.

3^rd Sunday of Easter; Yr. C, April 14, 2013

Acts 9:1-6, (7-20);  Psalm 30; Revelation 5:11-14; John 21:1-19

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

            Thomas Troeger wrote a reflection about the reading from John in Feasting on Word.[1]  He says that the story John is telling in today’s gospel echoes other stories in the gospel, stories the people would remember.  Let’s take some time and look at it again … maybe some of you don’t even need to.  What phrases or images remind you of other stories we know in the life of Jesus? 

Doubt It

2^nd Sunday of Easter; Yr. C, April 7, 2013

Acts 5:27-32;  Psalm 150; Revelation 1:4-8; John 20:19-31

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

            The disciples are brought before the high priests.  They’re called in for a tongue lashing.  “We gave you strict orders not to teach in this name, yet here you have filled Jerusalem with your teaching and you are determined to bring this man’s blood on us.”  The Jewish leaders went to great lengths to discredit Jesus, and to dismantle his growing religious faction in Jerusalem and beyond.  They took him to Pilate and Herod.  They did everything in their power to get him convicted of treason.  When that didn’t work, they stirred up the crowds to get him crucified.  It was better for one to die, then for all their lives to be put in jeopardy.

            But Jesus didn’t die.  At least, he didn’t stay dead.  He started appearing to people, showing up in upper rooms and on the beach.  Talking to them, walking with them and eating fish with them.  Tongues of fire came down from heaven and rested on the disciples and they could speak in languages that weren’t their own.  The high priests hadn’t counted on any of that.  How could they?  Who would have imagined anything like this happening?  Who wouldn’t doubt something like that?   

He is risen! Really?

Easter Sunday; Yr. C, March 31, 2013

Isaiah 65:17-25:12;  Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24; Acts 10:34-43; Luke 24:1-12

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

            Alleluia, Christ is Risen!  The Lord is risen indeed!  Today is the day we celebrate Christ’s continuing presence in our lives, and not only our lives, but in the life of the world.  Today we hear the story of Christ’s escape from the tomb, and the absolute incredulity of his followers to that fact.  In John’s version, no one believes the women.  Only Peter heads off to the tomb to check things out for himself.  Everyone else is quite sure that such a thing as resurrection … literally coming back from the dead … is impossible.  It doesn’t make any more sense to us either, but at least we have the witness of Peter to go on.  Peter ran to the tomb, stooping and looking in, he saw the linen cloths by themselves.  Jesus was indeed gone, but had he truly risen?  Was he really alive again?

The Lion, the Witch & the Wardrobe

Good Friday; Yr. C, March 29, 2013

Isaiah 52:13-53:12;  Psalm 22; Hebrews 10:16-25; John 18:1-19:42

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

   

         My daughter is eleven.  She’s in fifth grade.  Her reading group at school just finished reading the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, a novel by C. S. Lewis.  For the most part we read the book together, and I kept thinking about how interesting it was that they were reading that story during Lent, actually finishing it during Holy Week. 

Leave Something in the Marketplace

Palm Sunday; Yr. C, March 24, 2013

Isaiah 50:4-9a; Psalm 31:9-16; Philippians 2:5-11; Luke 22:14-23:56

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

Sometimes it can happen to these cheeks

When a poem visits my mind for the first time

And begins to look around.

They can wonder why rain is falling on them,

And causing my nose to run too.

O boy, what a mess love makes of me.  But

There is nothing else right now I would rather

be doing … than reaping something from a

field in another dimension

and leaving it in the marketplace for any who

might happen by.

Leave something in the marketplace for us

Before you leave this world.[1]

            As I read through the story of Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem and his passion in preparation for this morning, I thought about those on the side of the road who watched as their hope walked the road to death, as tears fell like rain on their cheeks.  What a mess love makes of things.  God sent Jesus to be human out of love.  Jesus walked to his death out of love.  We retell his passion today out of love … and tears fall like rain if we spend too much time with it. 

            If love hadn't been at the heart of these events, I think it might have been a lot less messy. 

Free

4 Lent; Yr. C, March 10, 2013

Joshua 5:9-12; Psalm 32; 2 Corinthians 5:16-21; Luke 15:11b-32

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

            Almost two weeks ago, Charlie, Bonnie, David and I presented at a meeting of the Congregational Development Partnership Committee, CDPC for short.  Charlie did a fabulous job of putting together the presentation.  First, he told everyone a little about our history.  He talked about our financial situation and building, how we have worked to maintain it and the asset it is to us.  Then David talked about the many ministries going on here, in and through our building, as a result of this congregation’s presence in the city.  It was a wonderful story to watch unfold, a story that they had never heard.  Bonnie had the job of explaining how we’ve been able to do all we’ve done with our often tenuous financial status.  Here’s how Charlie articulated it for us. 

More Than We Know

3 Lent; Yr. C, February 17, 2013

Exodus 3:1-15; Psalm 63:1-8; 1 Corinthians 10:1-13; Luke 13:1-90

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

             On Friday at Sutherland High School, where my wife Nancy teaches, there was an assembly for the students.  The boys and girls were separated.  Nancy went to the girls’ presentation.  It was about body image and eating disorders.  The presenter had suffered with anorexia as a high school student herself.  She showed the girls a video of young girls, eight, nine and ten years old saying things like: Am I too fat? Am I pretty?  The presenter asked the girls how they would answer these questions if the girl in the video had been their younger sister.  One girl raised her hand and said, “I’d tell her she was perfect.”  The presenter said, “That’s what you should say to everyone you love.  That’s what you should say to yourself.”  She’s absolutely right.

If and When

1 Lent; Yr. C, February 17, 2013

Deuteronomy 26:1-11; Psalm 91:1-2, 9-16; Romans 10:8b-13; Luke 4:1-13

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

            James Allison, a contemporary theologian, wrote a reflection in The Christian Century on today’s readings.  In it he points out that “Jesus learns to be the precarious one in the desert.  [But] where Moses reassured his listeners with the little word when, as in ‘when you come into the land,’ the devil comes to Jesus and thrice tempts him with the little word if.”[1]  When and if.  Two little words that reveal very different views of the future.

            When Moses uses the word “when”, he’s talking about a time in the future that he believes will come to pass.  It’s not up for grabs.  It’s not maybe.  It’s not perhaps.  It’s certain.  The Israelites WILL come into the land the Lord has promised them.  They WILL possess it and settle in it.  They WILL make a home there and the land WILL be fruitful.  And the people WILL recognize the gift of land for what it is … life.  The people WILL show their gratefulness with an offering to God.  Moses is assuring the people of a future … that’s what hope is all about.  Hope is made real to us in future stories.  We create those stories based on past experience affirmed in the present and extrapolated into the future. 

Who’s Being Transformed?

Last Sunday after the Epiphany; Yr. C, February 10, 2013

Annual Meeting Sunday

Exodus 34:29-35; Psalm 99; 2 Corinthians 3:12-4:2; Luke 9:28-36, (37-43a)

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

And all of us, with unveiled faces, seeing the glory of the Lord reflected in a mirror, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another; for this comes from the Lord, the Spirit.  Therefore, since it is by God’s mercy that we are engaged in this ministry, we do not lose heart. (2 Corinthians 3:18)

I know our gospel reading is about Jesus’ transformation, but this reading from 2 Corinthians talks about something even more amazing.  It talks about God’s work in each of us, the work of continually creating us in the image of God.  This passage is all about OUR transformation.  Through Christ, we are being changed, transformed, transfigured, matured in faith.  We are looking in a mirror and seeing God reflected in our face, and with each passing day our faces change … becoming more and more glorious. 

Did you hear what I said?  It doesn’t say that we start out looking dog-eared and disgusting.  It doesn’t say we start at the bottom and work toward becoming acceptable or loveable or worthy.  No!  Our collect says that we are “changed into God’s likeness from glory to glory”.  We are glorious from the beginning!  In God’s eyes the way forward is up and up and up, from glory into glory.  How amazing is that!

Love & Rage

4^th Sunday after the Epiphany; Yr. C, February 3, 2013

Jeremiah 1:41-10; Psalm 71:1-6; 1 Corinthians 13:1-13; Luke 4:21-30

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

            On Sunday, March 7, 1965 600 civil rights marches headed toward Montgomery from Selma, AL.  They were staging a peaceful march in support of black rights.  They had only walked six blocks out of Selma when they were stopped at the Edmund Pettus Bridge.  State and local police refused to let them pass over the bridge and ordered them to disperse.  The group stopped as one of their leaders made a request.  Hosea Williams, of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference, asked if he might “have a word” with the officer in charge.   Major Cloud refused to speak to him and gave the group a two-minute warning to disperse.  Williams asked again, “Can I have a word?”  As Senator John Lewis explains it, after a minute or so, the major ordered the troops into position and they advanced on the marchers with tear gas, bull whips and billy clubs.  That was Bloody Sunday.[1]

Being Ordinary

3rd Sunday after the Epiphany; Yr. C, January 27, 2013

Nehemiah 8:1-3, 5-6, 8-10; Psalm 19; 1 Corinthians 12:12-31a; Luke 4:14-21

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

Jesus has been baptized in the Jordan.  A dove descended on Jesus, a sign of his difference, a sign of his specialness.  He has arrived on the scene for a particular purpose, to lead the way of repentance that John has been telling everyone about.  Jesus is to be the embodiment of repentance, the embodiment of a life continually being reoriented toward God.  Here is the one who will show us how to live fully into our humanity.  Immediately following his baptism Jesus is driven into the wilderness.  What better place could there be to process that kind of revelation about yourself.  There, he is tempted by the devil repeatedly to forego his calling, but he resists everything the devil throws at him … hunger, security, honor. 

Still filled with the Spirit that helped him through those desert trials, Jesus travels to Galilee to fulfill his vocation.  Jesus leaves his family, and his hometown.  He begins teaching in synagogues, healing the sick and sending demons on the run.  In time he ends up back in Nazareth, his hometown.  Like any good Jewish boy he goes to the synagogue, and on this particular day he is the one who reads from the Torah scroll.  It's a passage from Isaiah, and it proclaims the upside down world we have come to recognize as God's trademark.  Captives set free.  The blind healed.  The poor given hope.  And most surprisingly of all, Jesus adds ... it will all be fulfilled in Him.  He announces what he has come to believe about himself and his calling … what the dove revealed, what the desert affirmed.  Jesus claims his vocation.

God Has A Dream

Second Sunday after Epiphany, Yr. C, January 20, 2013

Isaiah 62:1-5; Psalm 36:5-10; 1 Corinthians 12:1-11; John 2:1-11

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

            I was interrupted as I was beginning my sermon writing yesterday by my dog barking ferociously in the driveway.  When I ran down the stairs and opened the door, I saw my dog holding off two women in long black coats at the end of the driveway. They stood there looking warily at the dog, but not concerned enough to be scared off completely. I called my dog inside, and looked at the two women.  I knew instantly who they were.  They were Jehovah’s Witnesses.[1]

Members and Disciples

First Sunday after Epiphany/The Baptism of Jesus, Yr. C, January 13, 2013

Isaiah 43:1-7; Psalm 29; Acts 8:14-17; Luke 3:15-17, 21-22

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

            Today we celebrate the Baptism of Jesus.  And our gospel reading is a reminder of the story of his baptism in the account given by Luke.  At our clergy bible study this past week there were several Episcopalians and probably just as many Baptists.  Baptists celebrate a “believer’s baptism”, a baptism that is chosen by the individual when a boy, or girl, is old enough to make that kind of decision for themselves.  Some of their children decide on baptism when they’re adolescents, while others come to baptism as an adult, some not at all.  Their baptism is modeled after the story we heard this morning. 

John had set himself apart in the wilderness.  He was calling people to repent and return to God.  People came to John to be baptized.  Jesus was one of them.  They all made a conscious choice to come to the river.  Episcopalians are among those Christians who baptize infants, even though infants are not mature enough to understand what is being committed for them … even though we have no idea what decisions they may make for themselves in the future.  Why do we do that?  Why do we “seal them as one of Christ’s own forever”, when we have no idea what they may want as adults?

The Journey

Feast of the Epiphany, Yr. C, January 6, 2013

Isaiah 60:1-6; Psalm 72:1-7, 10-14; Ephesians 3:1-12; Matthew 2:1-12

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

            In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, asking, ‘Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews?  For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage.” 

            Every journey begins somewhere.  Every journey has a beginning, something that marks its purpose, something that nudges us out the door, something that prompts that first step out.  For the wise men, who were more likely wandering astrologers or members of “a priestly class of Persian or Babylonian experts in the occult”,[1] it is no different.  These pagans were following a star, a star that moved against the natural pattern of east to west, a star that was leading them to a king.  They weren’t the kings in this story.  They were seekers of a king, not just any king … but the king of the Jews.  Gentiles were looking for the very king that the Jews hadn’t yet discovered themselves. 

Our Songs

Advent 4, Yr. C, December 23, 2012 

Micah 5:2-5a; Magnificat; Hebrews 10:5-10; Luke 1:39-45 (46-55)

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

            When I was first at Two Saints and we did both the Christmas Eve services there, we still made the early service especially friendly for children.  When we did the crèche blessing, we usually sang a few verses of Away in the Manger.  The kids would come up and join us at the crèche at the front of the church, most without any leaflet with them.  Many too young to read it if they had it.  When it came time for the carol, we expected the children to join in the singing because they would know it.  But that never happened.  They didn’t know it.

            As a child, I remember going caroling in nursing homes with my Girl Scout troop, and in the neighborhood with friends.  I remember hearing Christmas Carols on the radio and singing them in school.  I remember being sick of them by the time Christmas arrived.  We sang them and we sang them and we sang them … all the time! 

A few days ago, as I was thinking about the service of Lessons and Carols we will do next week for the Feast of St. Stephen, I began to wonder how many of the songs my daughter would recognize.  So I asked her.