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.